


for you there must be me, for me there must be you

by toneelspeler



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Immortality, Immortals, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, POV Second Person, Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:00:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25789984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toneelspeler/pseuds/toneelspeler
Summary: You discover a crucial detail about yourself when you are twelve years old; you are a light sleeper. One closing door, a laugh outside or bird flying from their tree branch and you are awake. But those are not the reasons why you are a light sleeper.----nicolo's perspective on sleeping and on yusuf.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani & Nicky | Nicolo di Genova, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 7
Kudos: 173





	for you there must be me, for me there must be you

You discover a crucial detail about yourself when you are twelve years old; you are a light sleeper. One closing door, a laugh outside or bird flying from their tree branch and you are awake. But those are not the reasons why you are a light sleeper. 

When you are twelve, you wake up to Matteo in your bed, his little arms clutching himself to your body. He is warm and sweaty, pushing and pulling your arm; he’s frightened of what is happening to him and _I feel safe with you, Nicolo_ . You brush your fingers through his hair, softly shushing him - your mother’s _little gift from God_ after years of trying. He is five years old, the youngest of your siblings, and he adores you, follows you around wherever you go. You often share your nutritious findings with him; a peach or an apple you stole from a neighbour’s garden. For now, you decide he can stay with you. You will tell your mother in the morning Matteo is not feeling well; a good night’s sleep always helps. Eventually he calms down and sleeps. 

He never wakes. 

\--

You never sleep a full night for almost two decades after. The Matteo in your mind’s eye and the Crusades you signed up for will not let you. 

\--

It has been a month since meeting Yusuf al-Kaysani. Having set up a truce a week in, you learn of Yusuf’s father Ibrahim, and his grandfather Muhammad. He shows you drawings he made of them, in a sketchbook so old that there’s almost no room left for any new sketches, a sketchbook of which first few pages have been drained with blood - of yourself or of him, it is difficult to say. It is his most prized possession. 

You also learn of Yusuf’s ability to fall asleep in any place that is available to him, even on the bare ground; within minutes he is deeply breathing, most likely dreaming of his family who are so far out of reach for them now. Most of the time, you are the first watch of the night, since sleep comes less easy to you early in the evening. Yusuf wakes up early in return; as he prays to his God at specific points during the day. 

That night, you had a long conversation with Yusuf, about where you would be able to go together, what your next step might be. But also about who he is; how he learnt the languages he speaks and how he learnt to sketch so beautifully without a teacher. There is something blooming in your chest when he speaks about his passions, but there is no place to explore your emotions yet, you feel. You need to find a safe place to rest your head first. 

Yusuf fell asleep holding his pencil and sketchbook in hand, and because of the fire that you had set up you can faintly see the outlines of a face he had been drawing. _My inspiration comes from things that occupy my dreams at night and will not let me go in the morning,_ Yusuf had said once. 

Upon looking closer, you think how easier it is to see your face in sketch form that it is to look at yourself in the mirror. This is how Yusuf sees you.

You round the fire and sit yourself next to Yusuf’s sleeping body, carefully lying down next to him. You wish you could draw like him, to memorise him; there is something about him that you will never forget. But drawing is not one of your skills. Instead, you slowly begin to traverse your hand towards his face, trailing his cheek softly. Yusuf, unknowingly, unconsciously, turns towards your fingers and you feel him breathe on the tips of your fingers. He smiles. 

After watching him for a while, you start dreaming about him too. It’s the first full night of sleep you ever remember having.

\--

Some time after losing Quynh, the threat of you and Yusuf losing your immortality at different times becomes a reality. You would rather not think on it too much; there is a reason you had been given this gift, whether divine or not, but it is best not to question things, you felt. You have too much time on your hands anyway, there is so much more you can think about than the inevitable end.

Nevertheless, after Quynh - there is a moment in time where you feel your breath hold and your heart race whenever Yusuf is killed. You were naive before; you had forgotten what had happened with your brother when he was little. It had been 600 years since, and even though you never wanted to, you had forgotten. 

Death is always around the corner. 

This is what is on your mind when in the middle of the night, you have your right hand on Yusuf’s face, trying to feel the air coming from his lungs as he breathes. But when he takes a little too much time to breathe, you panic, frantically asking him to _wake, please wake Yusuf_ , _please do not leave me behind._ In other times, you would have known that Yusuf always takes a while to wake up; in other times, you would have known that Yusuf is a deep sleeper - but now it all seems like a confirmation that he is gone, that you are just like Andromache; a half of a whole, left behind.

_Nicolo_ , Yusuf finally says, _hayati,_ and you can finally breathe. You lose yourself for a few minutes, crying silently in grief and relief - _it is not his time yet, but why was it your brother’s, then?_ You had never told Yusuf of him; you are not sure why. It is easier to force yourself to forget than to confront, perhaps.

But Yusuf, kind, gentle, sweet Yusuf, _the man of your life_ , he enfolds you into his arms, kisses your head and asks what is going on inside your mind. He would like to know, to understand, to help. He will always read you the best.

So you tell him, of the death that has been the most difficult to bear, even centuries beyond. He catches the tears that fall with his thumbs, and when you are done telling him about that little _gift from God_ , he forces you to look at him, and brings your hands to his chest. 

_Feel that beating, Nicolo?_ Once you nod, he brings your palms to his lips. 

_You are not going to get rid of me that easily. You still make my heart beat too strong. I am not going until you go. I promise._

After that, Yusuf lies down with you; pulls your back into him and fits you neatly into his arms; he stays awake until you fall asleep.

\--

Yusuf’s not exempt from focusing on you and you being alive though, not at all - every time you get killed the first one he is looking for is you; when killed by Copley’s men he wakes up and searches for a sign of you being alive, and you are relieved when you lock eyes with him. 

When on the table in Merrick’s lab he wakes up after a particularly cruel death - and double takes when looking at you - you feel relief and so seen when Yusuf makes a joke about bedheads. He has always known you better than anyone; he hears the fear in your _i am happy you are awake_. How intensely you hope for freedom from this place; dreaming of going back where you have never felt more loved and in sync with Yusuf, back to Malta; where Yusuf proposed to you in bed and even if it was not legally possible, you married him, right there in that bed, exchanging whispered vows not unlike the one he gave in the van. 

Oh, how you celebrated with him. To have and to hold, indeed.

\--

You sleep in the same way for centuries, especially on the job. Sebastien had called it a _spoon position_ once, snorting a little but quickly lost in thoughts again. There are a million loving reasons why the way you slept never changed, ranging from how you felt swaddled in his arms to the easy way you were able to kiss his, often pencil-dirty, hands in the morning. They were certainly all true, but the biggest reason was this -

Yusuf’s tally of getting killed during his sleep because of his damned inability to wake up in a reasonable amount of time was already at eleven. 

Eleven times.

You know this because nearly all of those times were when Yusuf was on a mission with someone else than with you - and they told you. Nile kept a note on her phone detailing every single time.

After the tenth time happened _with_ you - for once you were ‘the larger spoon’ and Yusuf’s throat was slit because he did not wake up, not hearing the intruder - you kindly refused another way of sleeping and hid your gun next to your bed. Ready to aim whenever need be.

Yusuf never really protested too much, actually.

_I just like the way it feels, hayati. You make me feel safe._

You find that you cannot disagree.

**Author's Note:**

> come and find me @toneelspeelster on tumblr!
> 
> __
> 
> thank you for reading this silly story about sleeping :)  
> points to you if you get the reference to someone i made lol


End file.
